The Turning Tide
by AngelProtege
Summary: A lot can change over a short period of time. That has been the story of Ryan Atwood's life. AU. set after season 1. Theresa didn't get pregnant and Ryan still lives in Newport
1. The Turning Tide

A/N: Hello, everyone! I must say I'm so glad I discovered ! I've snooped around and read some very amazing stories over these past few months and I just decided I _had_ to join! So, obviously, this is my first attempt at an actual fanfic. I've done ff writings before, but I hear this site is where it's all at. So, please tell me what you think of it! ;) I warn you, though: my writings may not be for everybody. So to keep things safe for now, I'm rating this M. I hope you enjoy!

Summery: A lot can change over a short period of time. That's been the story of Ryan Atwood's life.

Rating: M

Pairings: Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer; **later** Seth/Ryan, Zach/Summer, Alex/Marissa

Warnings: Abuse and assault of the worst kinds, so beware. Slash and FemSlash, so if this isn't your thing, leave now. Gruesome traumas, depression and suicidal themes. Additional warnings later on. If you're easily offended, DO NOT read.

Disclaimer: All things O.C. belong to Josh Schwartz.

The Turning Tide

The Rover pulled to a gradual stop outside the Cohen house. Nobody moved for several minutes. Whether it was because of exhaustion or anxiety, they didn't know.

Sandy quietly looked into the backseat for a moment before turning to his wife in the passenger seat, who stared at him nervously. He tried to smile encouragingly, "You two go ahead and get some sleep. I'm gonna put Ryan to bed."

"Do you want any help?" Seth asked from the darkness behind him. Sandy shook his head.

"No, it's alright. I don't think he needs to be crowded right now anyway."

Kirsten nodded and slowly released her seatbelt and proceeded to climb out of the vehicle. Seth, however, appeared hesitant to move. Sandy didn't object as he himself exited the Rover. He made sure the passenger doors were unlocked before pulling the left one open. In the reclined seat, the boy whom Sandy came to call his second son lay curled up in a black fleece blanket, asleep.

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"_We've given him a dose of Seroquel. He should be out for the next twelve hours or so."_

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Seth was found for once sitting in the middle seat, next to his best friend – almost protectively. He and his father locked eyes briefly before the former tucked the blanket tighter around Ryan's chin. Sandy managed a minuscule smile as he undid Ryan's seatbelt.

"Get some sleep, son. He'll be okay."

"Are you sure I shouldn't sit with him a while? Keep an eye on him for a bit?"

"We should let him have his space for now. And I don't think he'll be waking up any time soon." Seth still didn't move. "Seth, you've been up the last day and a half at least. What would Ryan wake up thinking if he finds you asleep near his bed? Especially in the state he's in?"

Seth's expression crumpled a little, but he inwardly admitted his father was right; the last thing he wanted to do was panic Ryan. With that resigned thought, Seth haltingly made his way out of the Rover.

Sandy returned to the task at hand. Making sure the blanket was wrapped securely around his son, he secured Ryan's arms around his neck before lifting him up out of the seat. Ryan wasn't the lightest teenager in the world, but the past three months appeared to have taken a toll on him. Sandy couldn't wrap his head around how small he seemed. The weight in his arms could barely be felt compared to what Sandy would have first imagined.

It wasn't a very cold night, but even in sweatpants and a hoodie, Ryan still began to shiver slightly.

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"_Ryan, honey, there's nothing to worry about here; you're safe."_

"_I still don't wanna do this."_

"_Is there anything we can do to make you feel more comfortable while you're here?"_

_Despite his sullen expression, the whole family knew the hospital would not budge on their decision to keep him there at least another twenty-four hours._

"_Um…you know that…black throw blanket you gave me..?"_

"_I'll go home right now and get it for you."_

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The pool house was as undisturbed as the day Ryan had disappeared: bed made neatly, a small stack of books on his nightstand, dirty-clothes hamper with little more than two wife-beaters and a pair of jeans in it.

Sandy didn't bother turning on the lights; he'd become accustomed to seeing in the dark these past couple of days. In the hospital, as much as Ryan hated being in the dark, the lights had to be kept on the bare minimum. It was either that, or have his eyes bandaged, which Ryan would NOT allow. And Sandy had made sure at least one of the Cohens stayed with him at all times.

Finally, after refusing to sleep for two days, the doctors found it necessary to sedate him. Heavily. They'd hoped that when he woke up, he'd be a little more relaxed. And what better place to wake up than at the one place he felt safest?

Sandy carefully lowered Ryan down onto the futon. He wasn't sure whether it was an act of sleep or pure instinct that he curled in on himself as soon as he made contact with the sheets. Once again, Sandy tucked the prized blanket around him. Then he pulled the comforter up over his still-shaking frame. As he made his way to the door to let himself out, Sandy couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something. After a moment, he turned back and headed towards the bed again. One hand patted down the ruffled blonde hair before he laid a soft kiss to it. He couldn't help the sad smile that worked his way onto his lips as he headed back to the house.

"Goodnight, Ryan."

_Chapter One_

**Five days earlier.**

The phone was ringing again. It rang a lot these days. The only difference lately was that no one bothered to jump on the receiver on the first ring. In fact, lately they've been afraid to answer it. It had just been too long for any caller to bear good news.

All three Cohen's, plus Summer and Marissa, sat around the kitchen island. Each had their eyes trained on the phone in front of all of them. Occasionally, they would look up at each other, wondering – daring – anyone to answer it.

On the sixth ring, somebody moved. Kirsten eyed her husband warily. Seth bit his lip as his father reached towards the phone. Summer squeezed her best friend's hand as he pushed 'talk.' Marissa shut her eyes tight as he answered.

"Cohen residence." There was a pause. Then, "No, Julie, we still haven't heard anything. …Yes, Marissa's still here. …She said she doesn't want to leave. Summer's here with her. …Yes, I'll make sure she's home before dark. I'll send Summer with her. …Bye, Julie."

Everyone released a breath none of them were aware they held.

"Sandy, this can't go on," Kirsten gravely said as her husband set the phone down. "It's been three months. Still no one knows anything."

"I know that, Kirsten. But we can't give up. Not now, when he needs us the most."

"I just hope we don't get that magical phone call and it say they found his body in the ocean somewhere," Seth mumbled numbly. Summer and Marissa visibly flinched.

"Seth," Sandy began sternly – determinedly, "He is _not_ dead. Do you understand me?" Seth looked up at him miserably. Everyone knew his thoughts…and remorsefully shared them. "He is not dead. He's a fighter. We'll find him. And we'll bring him home. Trust me." Seth nodded, but clearly didn't dare to believe his father's words.

"I just can't imagine something like this happening," Summer spoke up for the first time. "Especially to him."

"We won't have any answers until - "

Sandy was cut off by another ring from the phone. There was no hesitation this time; Kirsten's shaking hands yanked it up before anyone else could comprehend.

"No, Julie, nothing's changed! Stay off the line incase - " then she was silent. Everyone stared, not daring to wonder who spoke on the other end. They watched as her eyes became troubled. Then moist. "Yes, this is the Cohen house. …Yes. I-I'm Kirsten Cohen. …Who is this? …From where?" she went silent again as they listened, straining to hear the muffled voice. Suddenly, Kirsten closed her eyes, scratching an old coffee stain on the countertop. Her voice became deathly quiet, "No, we're not interested in investing in a new cooling system. …Thank you…" everything seemed to be in slow motion as she hung up and set the phone down.

Seth laid his head down on his arms. This was hopeless. Lord knew how elevated their blood pressures must be at this point. All this anxiety and helplessness and stress were getting to them all. He couldn't remember the last time any of them ate.

It wasn't fair. One day, everything was fine and perfect and Seth, Ryan, Summer, and Marissa were getting ready to head out on a weekend trip to Oregon, where they planned to spend three days with nature. No worries; just them, a few camping necessities, and the stars they were to sleep under. What could have gone wrong?

Then Ryan didn't return home from work the night before they planned to leave. When they called his cell, it went straight to voicemail. When they dropped by the Crab Shack, one of his coworkers, Jason, said he'd left two hours earlier. Figuring he was doing some last-minute shopping, they decided to wait for him at the house.

Dinner rolled by. Ryan was never late for dinner unless he called and let them know. They called Marissa. She hadn't seen him all day. Ten o'clock rolled around. So did eleven. And midnight. At three a.m., Seth's alarm clock went off to wake them up to prepare for their leave. The pool house remained empty. The cell phone remained unresponsive. Ryan remained missing.

The camping trip was forgotten by eight a.m. Summer and Marissa were now in the Cohens' kitchen with Seth while Sandy and Kirsten rang up every resident in Newport they knew. By half-past ten, they finally called the police. Kirsten managed to ring in Caleb's P.I. At around 1:00, Sandy grew impatient and decided to search around the area himself. Seth followed suit. As did Summer and Marissa. Kirsten stayed home in case anyone called the house with information.

Days went by with no news. Ryan's picture was on every daily newspaper, in every window, on every milk carton the Cohens could find. After two weeks, his bike was found rusted and broken among the cliffs by the beach. In the fifth week, Theresa knocked on their door, saying how she'd just got word about Ryan's disappearance. After the seventh week, she returned again to Chino – perhaps clues would show up there.

Two months later, school was getting ready to start. Everyone began to clearly fall apart. Nobody slept if they could help it. Sandy rarely made it to the office anymore; every spare moment he had went to searching for his son, no matter how hopeless everyone deemed it to be. Kirsten could hardly focus on her projects. Finally, Caleb made her take a vacation.

Two-and-a-half months. Seth endlessly threw himself at school work. He did his homework each night only to erase it all and do it all over again, studied until the sun rose, did all the work for group school projects – anything to distract himself. When he became tired, he drank coffee – sometimes a whole pot. When his parents finally cut him off, he took caffeine pills. When his body ran out of gas no matter what he did, he passed out for a day or two. Then the routine started all over again.

Marissa drank more than ever. She didn't want to feel anything. If she drank enough, alcohol made the prospect of Ryan appear as little more than a figment of her imagination. A bad dream. Maybe one of these days, she'd wake up and it would all go away? Maybe she'd sober up long enough and realize there was never anything to worry about. Ryan was just a stranger; a faceless fairytale creature who meant nothing.

Three months. Hearing the phone ring was like hearing a banshee scream: the product of a nightmare. Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, they all feared what they'd hear if they dared answer the phone. But they became obsessive. Even if they were given bad news, they didn't care; as long as _some_ kind of news was given about Ryan…at least they _knew_. Knowing the truth was far better than what their imaginations continued to torture them with. Each day brought a different possible scenario. Each one more horrid than the last.

Now they sat huddled around it like a bunch of cavemen around a fire. Or an ancient tribe worshipping a shrine. Waiting to be blessed with news.

A loud scraping suddenly broke the sound barrier. All eyes shifted to Kirsten abruptly standing from her seat. She headed to the wine cabinet.

"I can't take this anymore."

"Kirsten."

"No, Sandy! I'm tired of watching this household crumble around us. We're killing ourselves because we can't do anything!"

"Having another drink is not going to help us find Ryan any faster."

"Maybe I'm tired of hurting because our son is God-knows-where, where he can be in pain and needing us, and we can't help him! The least I can do is distract myself for a while."

Seth clamped his hands over his ears. Maybe if he blocked everything out, it would all go away.

"Put the bottle down, Kirsten," Sandy was up out of his chair, too. "We can't do anything because there _is _nothing we can do. All there is left is to wait for now."

"I'm tired of waiting, Sandy. I'm tired of waiting for news that may never come or worse: news that Ryan is - "

"Ryan _is not_ dead! I refuse to believe that!"

Great; now the parents were yelling again. It was a miracle they hadn't yet lost their voices due to all the yelling that had been going on recently. And now Marissa was silently crying. One more piece of drama to deal with. _**And that damn phone was ringing again!**_

"Nobody knows how this could have happened! We're no closer to finding him now than we were three months ago! Where's the hope in that, Sandy?"

_Damn it, somebody shut that phone up!_

"I can't believe you're _giving up _hope! We give up now, Ryan's lost to us!"

_Leave us alone, already! Let us die in agonizing peace!_

Summer reached for the phone.

"Ryan has _been _lost to us!"

"Not if we keep trying!"

"Cohen residence."

"We, his own _family,_ can't find him! What good are we doing?"

"What do you think would happen if we gave up?"

"What? Where?"

"Are you accusing me of giving up on him?"

"What do you want me to think, Kirsten?"

"But, how..?"

"We're all drowning, here. If they don't let us do something to help, time alone is going to kill us!"

"Now of all times we can't afford to sink into a pit of - "

"Cohens!" All attention turned to Summer – even Seth raised his head at the sudden burst of volume. "Ryan's at the Fallbrook Hospital!"

A/N: So…what do you think? Should I continue? Please let me know! All feedback is welcome! ;)


	2. Lost and Found

A/N: Hello again, everyone. Well, since I received some reviews, I figured it was time to update ;) I will thank Azrael38 for the encouragement and Anonymous for the input. Though I am sorry I lost a reader so quickly due to the slash, I will continue for those that do enjoy the story anyways. So, I hope everyone enjoys this second installment. I _really _hope to receive more feedback! *Hint, Hint*

Summery: A lot can change over a short period of time. That's been the story of Ryan Atwood's life.

Rating: M

Pairings: Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer; **later** Seth/Ryan, Zach/Summer, Alex/Marissa

Warnings: Abuse and assault of the worst kinds, so beware. Slash and FemSlash, so if this isn't your thing, leave now. Gruesome traumas, depression and suicidal themes. References to sexual abuse, so if this is beyond your limits of toleration, I suggest you don't read. Additional warnings later on. If you're easily offended, DO NOT read.

Disclaimer: All things O.C. belong to Josh Schwartz.

**Also, in response to Azrael38: **I thank you very much for your opinion! I'm glad someone wants to read more. As for your concerns about the slash, it won't be til further down the road and the story isn't centered around it. I do hope you continue to read further down the road as well. ;) Well, enjoy!

**In response to Anonymous: **Though I doubt you'll read this, I felt it necessary to thank you anyways for your opinion. If you do not like slash, then that's your decision. Thank you for politely letting me know instead of blowing up at me. I'm sorry I do not have you as a reader, but I appreciate your criticism. I know you don't see Ryan and Seth as a couple (a lot of people don't) but I can and I wish to explore that. I'm sorry to have offended you.

_Chapter Two_

"He was found in the basement of an old apartment complex. Bruises, cuts, a broken arm, obvious signs of internal injuries, dehydration, malnourishment – it's amazing he's alive."

Bits and pieces of Doctor Flowers' words drifted over Seth's head. The only thing good he could hear was that his best friend was _alive_! Not well, but _alive _at the very least!

Seth had to hit the brakes fast when he realized everyone came to a stop. The dark-skinned doctor faced them now in her briefing, her face somber, "We haven't been able treat his more concerning injuries; he was quite a mess when the police found him."

"Delirious?" Kirsten asked, her throat straining.

"Is an understatement. We've had to keep all the lights off in his room because he reacts fiercely to the light and it seems to make his hysteria even worse. Even our best doctors are afraid to go near him."

"Is he…violent?"

"Only when anyone tries to touch him, Mr. Cohen."

Jesus, it felt like they were talking about a rabid dog found on the side of the street. What's worse, he hasn't been treated yet! So many thoughts and theories ran through Seth's mind. What could have happened over these past months that could have put his best friend – big, tough, fearless, no-shit-from-anyone Ryan Atwood – in this state?

"Can we see him?"

"We were hoping you would. If anyone can try and reach him, we hoped it would be his family," but Dr. Flowers hadn't yet turned to take them to Ryan's room. "We need to get him comfortable enough so that we may treat his wounds. If we can't…"

Okay, that pause was not good. Why wasn't she saying anything else? We need info here, woman!

"What?" Seth suddenly burst. But his parents didn't scold him for impoliteness; instead, they waited. "What'll happen?"

Dr. Flowers took a shaky breath before answering, "There are several possible consequences: he could develop permanent disability, or become seriously anemic, or contract blood poisoning…or he could bleed out from the inside…"

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Seth wasn't the least bit happy when his parents told him to wait outside with the girls. Didn't he deserve to see Ryan just as much as them? Maybe it would calm him down a little to hear his voice! He could be there for him! Ryan was in a very obviously fragile state. Wasn't it Seth's turn to take care of _him_ for once?

These and many other raging thoughts passed through his head as he watched Kirsten and Sandy enter the black room.

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"Ryan?"

Sandy barely breathed as he whispered into the room. He made sure to let in as little light as possible before shutting the door again. There was definitely a third breather in the room, albeit it was obvious he didn't want to be noticed.

"Ryan? Honey?" Kirsten tried. Still no answer. They proceeded to feel their way around the room until they came to the side of the bed. When their eyes adjusted to the dark a little, they were able to make out a faint silhouette. By the looks of its position, he appeared to be turned away from them.

Ryan was curled in on his side. His left arm – bound in a quick splint – was shoved underneath the pillow. His right covered his face and bowed head. The hospital blanket covered him almost up to his shaggy bangs. It looked like he was hiding.

Sandy kneeled next to the bed and tried again, "Ryan?" the teen flinched a little, but didn't move otherwise. "Ryan, it's us. It's Sandy." The head raised a little and a pair of blue eyes could very faintly be seen peeking out from the blanket. Sandy could feel Kirsten slowly stoop down next to him.

"Hey," she tried to laugh a little, but it came out more as a choked sob. "Are you gonna come outta there? Let us see you..?" she attempted to edge down the blanket some, but was met with a vicious flinch and recoil. After a moment, however, Ryan's arm came down from his face and he pulled the blanket down himself. Slowly, his hand inched towards the edge of the bed, seeking…something. Kirsten didn't know what else to do. So she reached out a little, taking his hand in hers. It was cold.

Sandy gently pulled the covers up around Ryan more as he spoke, "Hey, kiddo. Do you know where you are?" Ryan was silent. His eyes shifted between his two surrogate parents before subtly nodding. "Do you know how badly you're hurt?" a hesitant shrug. "You need to be looked at, Ryan. You need to let these doctors - "

"No…" Both parents jumped a little at the quiet voice that finally spoke. It was broken and raspy. "I don't…wa-want...anyone to…to touch me."

"Ryan, some of your injuries are very serious," Kirsten pleaded. "The people here can help you, but you've got to let them. Otherwise you'll - "

"Just let me die in peace, th-then."

"Oh, Ryan, don't talk like that. We're going to get you fixed up, we're going to bring you home, and we're gonna help you get better," Ryan remain unconvinced at Sandy's argument. He burrowed deeper into the blankets. "We're not asking you to talk about…whatever happened. Not right now. We just want you to let us help you."

"I just want…want them…t-to leave me alone…."

"Oh, honey…" Kirsten cooed, petting Ryan's mucky locks. "I know it must be hard right now, but you're safe now. No one here is going to hurt you.

"'Cuz they're not gon-gonna touch me."

"Why? They just want to help you."

"Please don't…p-put me through a-all this."

"Ryan, honey,there'snothing to worry about here; you're safe."

"I still don't wanna do this. Y-you don't…know…what…"

"Ryan," Sandy's voice lowered immensely – a voice he used only when speaking to Ryan of something of great importance or seriousness. "I'm asking you to trust us on this. You're hurt and if we don't do something about it, there could be grave consequences later. I don't want that to happen; and neither does Kirsten, and neither does Seth."

Ryan peeked up from beneath the blanket again, but only barely, "Seth?"

"He's hardly slept a wink since you disappeared."

Kirsten felt Ryan's fingers fidget a little in her hand; Ryan was thinking.

"C-can I…see him?"

Sandy smiled a little to himself, "Tell you what – you give the doctor's here a chance to fix you up, and we'll let Seth come and see you after. Deal?" Ryan hesitated a moment. "We'll let you two have as much time as you want and you can even have the room to yourselves if you want. But you've gotta cooperate with us, okay?"

"I-I don't…wanna be al-alone with…"

"Sandy will stay with you," Kirsten assured without hesitation. Her eyes pierced right through her husband in even the dark, "Right, Honey? You'll stay with Ryan through all of his tests, no matter what anyone says."

"Yeah," Sandy agreed. "We won't let you be left alone. You can count on that," A period of silence stretched out for what seemed like forever.

The hand in Kirsten's tightened its grip a little, but Ryan's voice remained small, "Okay…"

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Outside Ryan's room, there was light everywhere, which the ophthalmologist didn't yet want Ryan exposed to. However, Ryan refused to let anyone bandage his eyes. He was made to promise to at least keep his eyes shut while he was transferred between examination rooms. This proved to be of little problems since he seemed perfectly content to stay burrowed underneath his blanket.

Of all the rigorous poking and prodding, bandaging and x-rays, Sandy held true to his promise. It was obvious Ryan did not like being touched so much, but at least the situation seemed a little easier with Sandy by his side. But when all of the unnerving ordeals seemed to be over – and Ryan and Seth were finally reunited in the sanctuary of Ryan's dark hospital room – Doctor Flowers took the opportunity to pull Sandy and Kirsten aside.

It must have been two o'clock in the morning, but everyone seemed to still have more than enough adrenaline pumping through them to run a marathon. Doctor Flowers seemed to be the only one who wasn't bouncing on the balls of her feet due to nervous energy. In fact, she seemed either exhausted or…grave. As vain as it seemed, both Cohen parents couldn't help but hope it was the former.

"Mr. Cohen, Mrs. Cohen," began the doctor as she shut her office door and offered them both a seat. "I have to begin by thanking you; your presence here has definitely made the most significant difference. I believe Ryan may be able to finally sleep soundly."

"That makes all of us," Sandy returned. "The entire household has been an emotional wreck since…since he didn't come home."

"As I can imagine. You seem like a nice family; Ryan is lucky to have you." Neither Kirsten nor Sandy dared even think of the circumstances as to why Ryan was their family – or what would become of him if he wasn't. "But, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen…" Dr. Flowers leaned forward a little in her chair towards them, an off-white file resting beneath her hands. Her brown eyes stared at them with seriousness and compassion. "Ryan has undoubtedly been through quite the ordeal these past several months. And although we all know you went through great lengths to find him…he still suffered immensely." The Cohens grimly nodded, but refrained from commenting. "He still refuses to talk to anyone about…what all went on from the day he disappeared. And considering the various kinds of wounds that were found on him, I'm sure I speak for everyone here who's seen him when I say that I am greatly concerned."

"But he will get better, won't he?" Kirsten asked. Sandy found it amazing that she hadn't burst into tears yet.

"I have no doubt that Ryan will make full recovery…from what issues we've treated already."

Sandy leaned forward also, one hand still gripping his wife's, "Already? You mean there's more to be done? You haven't treated everything?"

"I know this sounds bad, but in order for us to carry out the last examination, we must - "

"You're telling us that our son is in there, with the assurances that he doesn't have to bear anymore discomfort, and you people left some gaps in your treatment?"

"Sandy - "

"No, Kirsten! I want to know _why_ they haven't given Ryan the care he deserves and _needs_!"

"Mr. Cohen, please, if you'll let me explain, I'll clear everything up."

"Oh, this better be good," Sandy growled as he sat back in his chair and tried to keep his temper in check.

Dr. Flowers let out a breath – quelled her frustration – before speaking again, "Mr. Cohen, upon Ryan's physical examination, we've found distinguishing marks that are cause for great concern. Many of them are bruises and what appear to be deep fingernail scratches. Primarily on his wrists, neck, and thighs. These have been cleaned and bandaged properly, but it's their meaning that I need to discuss with you. Did you speak with the police after your son was recovered?"

Kirsten shook her head, "No, we haven't had the chance yet. We wanted to make sure everything was okay with Ryan before we did anything else." Dr. Flowers nodded.

"Okay, then. What I'm about to discuss with you is not going to be the most pleasant. But it's something you need to hear," Flowers took another breath. "According to Officer Landon and his partner – the ones who found your son – it was not a pretty sight when they stormed the apartment complex. It was an old, abandoned rotting building – there were cracks and water stains in the walls and ceilings, roaches and rats in every corner, there was no heat or air conditioning, and apparently, the kidnappers held a farm for every kind of drug you can imagine in that place. Ergo, between Ryan's injuries and maltreatment, another day or two and Officer Landon probably would have recovered your son's corpse. But that's not the worst of it." Sandy and Kirsten exchanged glances. How could it get worse than that? Ryan had been living – no, _existing_ – in a death pit for three months and that wasn't the worst part? "When Officers Landon and Fitch found Ryan, he was already in poor condition. But when they tried to unfasten the handcuffs and warm him up, he fought them both. Fiercely."

"Well, isn't that to be expected?" Kirsten's voice quivered when she spoke. "I'm sure he was scared, and hysterical, and he probably couldn't tell the difference between - "

"Yes, he was very scared, Mrs. Cohen. And quite hysterical. And he remained so even as he was brought here. But we suspect certain reasons for his reaction."

"What do mean?"

"I must be honest, Mrs. Cohen, that you're both the first persons he's allowed near him since his rescue. Sure, the medics managed to get him stable on the way, but I fear he may have hurt them almost as bad as he himself was hurt. Reports say he was screaming jumbled words and strings of frightened nonsense for the longest time. Very few words were made sense of, but it has been more than enough to encourage our suspicions."

"What suspicions?" Sandy snapped impatiently. "What are you not telling us?"

"Exactly what I'm trying to tell you, Mr. Cohen. But I'll let this do the talking…" she handed them the file in front of her. Both parents held it as if it was going to explode in their faces. They flipped through the basic information, the pictures of various markings on Ryan's skin, and then to the briefing.

'…_clear signs of malnutrition…dehydration…multiple wounds…relentless screaming…resisting treatment…violent reactions to contact…violent reaction to light…words like "let go" "stop" "get off" "don't touch me" "please" have been made out...hysteria, possible mild dementia…'_

When neither could read anymore, both parents looked back up at Flowers, who sat patiently watching and waiting.

"This is very difficult for me to say," she said slowly. "But judging by these reports, Ryan's unwillingness to let anyone near him, the marks we've found so far on his body…we have definite reason to believe that Ryan may have been sexually assaulted."

"Sexually assaulted…?" Sandy repeated in disbelief.

"Many times."

Sandy and Kirsten fumbled for words. This was impossible. Not Ryan. _Anyone_ would have been more likely a candidate for a sexual victim than Ryan.

"H…how..? Why..?"

"Many people ask that, Mrs. Cohen. Especially the victim. Unfortunately, we may never know…unless we get Ryan to talk about the incident. Did the kidnappers know him? Did they have a past? Did they ever say anything to him or give any indication as to why he was targeted? Most importantly, did the assault have long-term effects or injuries, is what we need to know."

"Ryan doesn't talk about his problems much," Sandy numbly said. "I highly doubt he'll even acknowledge something like this."

"That's what concerns me. I need the victim's consent to run a rape kit. But being as he's a minor and you're his parents, I was hoping you could - "

"We're not going to force him," Sandy sternly declared. "But we'll try to talk to him."

"It's imperative that you do. Perhaps samples we acquire will lead us to the perpetrators and we do need his consent to treat the more…intimate areas. No doubt that damage has been done."

When they all stood, they stood on shaky legs. The Cohen's shook Dr. Flowers' hand and Sandy apologized for raising his voice to her.

"We'll try and talk to Ryan. We'll let you know if and when we get his consent."

"Thank you, Mr. Cohen. You're doing us quite a favor."

"Everything you're putting him through better be worth it."

Flowers smiled sympathetically.

A/N: Ehm…I could almost see the number of people clicking away from this chapter and this fic by the end of it. I hope I haven't scared everybody off… But in case I haven't, I'd very much appreciate any kind of feedback. (I can't believe I've turned into such a review whore already, but…:S) I'd very much appreciate your opinion. Any kinds of reviews are appreciated. Review and I'll keep going! Remember, even one review counts. Maybe it could be yours :)


	3. Cold As Ice

A/N: Hellllloooooo! I'm so happy to be back and with so many supporters already! Merely hours after I posted chapter two, I received a very kind review from a certain someone named Melster. After that, the wonderful reviews kept coming. I wish to thank you all for your encouragement and kind words! You all have definitely inspired me to keep going!

Summary: A lot can change over a short period of time. That's been the story of Ryan Atwood's life.

Rating: M

Pairings: Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer; **later** Seth/Ryan, Zach/Summer, Alex/Marissa

Warnings: Abuse and assault of the worst kinds, so beware. Slash and FemSlash, so if this isn't your thing, leave now. Gruesome traumas, depression and suicidal themes. Additional warnings later on. If you're easily offended, DO NOT read.

Disclaimer: All things O.C. belong to Josh Schwartz.

**In response to Melster: **You're so very kind! Thank you for being so reassuring. And you're right; I won't hold back. I'm so very glad I shared! You have inspired me to continue. Thank you so much and I hope you review again!

**In response to Jodi: **I'm so glad you love it! I hope this next chapter pleases you!

**In response to SweetChi:** I'm glad my fic had everything you were looking for. Yes, I've always liked the idea of Seth being protective of Ryan. And thank you for your encouragement about the slash and dark stuff. :) I'm elated that you think my fic is well-written! I hope you enjoy what's to come!

**In response to SteveSki:** First of all, LMAO! I love your anit-gay people comment. Yes, those who are must be in denial or something, lol. And, I love how perceptive you are. Yes, _is_ it a random kidnapping or…is there something else to it? Answers will be revealed soon. I hope you like this next piece. Enjoy and please review again!

**In response to Emily:**__I'm very glad to know you're intrigued. Thank you for encouraging me to continue!

**In response to bobbysinger200: **Poor, poor Ryan indeed! I wonder who did it, too. But whoever it is will pay! We'll make sure of it! …Ahem. But I'm glad to know Seth/Ryan is one of your fav pairings; it's mine, too! I'm glad you also have given confidence me to keep writing. Well…here it is!

_Chapter Three_

"Red really suits you, man."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it…really brings out the inner toughness you carry around."

"A-and black couldn't do the s-same thing?"

"Nah, it just gives the impression you're going Goth."

Ryan ran his fingers over the cast on his arm. Red wasn't really his first choice, but he didn't think the neon green would have been very appealing. He liked blue, but the baby shade it had seemed to fit better on a newborn's sleeper. And there was no way we was going for the lavender.

"So, um…"

"Yeah…"

"Hey, are you still cold?"

"A little."

"Well…here," Seth peeled off his windbreaker and draped it over the blanket Ryan molded to himself.

"Seth, r-really, it's - "

"It's not like I need it. And, besides, those hospital blankets don't look like they keep you very warm."

"Um…okay…"

"So…it's pretty comfy in here…without the lights and everything..?"

"A-actually, I wish we could have a l-little light in here. I r-really don't like being in the dark."

"Well, we could turn on the lights, if you just have your eyes bandaged for just a - "

"N-no!" Seth jumped a little, but nothing more. Ryan's strained voice lowered immensely and he ducked into his covers again. "S-sorry. It's just…at least with the lights off, I can kinda see. I-I don't like b-being compl-letely blind…"

"It's okay." A pause. "Do you wanna talk about it?" Ryan shook his head.

Neither was sure how much time had passed as they sat in silence before the door suddenly cracked open. Judging by the shape of the silhouette, it was Sandy.

"Hey, boys."

"Hey, Dad."

Sandy sat himself on the foot of the bed, "Hey, kiddo. How you feeling?"

A shrug was felt at Ryan's end, "Tired. C-cold. Wh-when can I g-go home?"

Sandy opened his mouth, but it was a second or two before sound came out, "Soon. Very soon. We just ne - "

The door opened again. This time it was Kirsten who sidled inside.

"Hi, sweetie. You doing okay?" Ryan nodded a little. After a moment, Kirsten turned her attention to Seth. "I'm going to go get coffee. Seth, you will you help me? I can't carry so many by myself and I _really_ don't wanna make two trips."

"Why me? I just got here and maybe Summer or Marissa - "

"M-Marissa's here?"

"Seth, Marissa's asleep and Summer's too paranoid to leave her by herself."

"But I just got here…"

"M-Marissa's…h-here?"

"Seth, go help your mother. No one's going anywhere."

Seth hesitated for a moment longer before his silhouette grudgingly rose from his chair, "I'll be back, kay buddy?"

"S-sure."

"Kay…"

When they were gone, Sandy seized his chance. He turned to Ryan, determined to bring it all out…but was unsure of where to start. However, it was Ryan who spoke first. In fact, he nearly jumped off the bed.

"Sandy? M-Marissa's here? Wh-why? I-is she - "

Sandy pressed down on his chest – gently but firmly, "Relax, Ryan," Ryan stilled, but most definitely didn't relax, "Yes, she's here. She's waiting to see you. And she'll get to after - "

"N-no…"

Sandy couldn't help it; he was taken aback. Not only did Ryan just _deny_ the idea of Marissa coming in to see him, he didn't even sound determined or firm about it. He sounded helpless…and miserable.

"Ryan, what - ?"

"No…I-I don't…want her to see me. N-not like this…"

"Okay. That's understandable. Maybe after you've rested up a bit and you feel better - "

"I-I don't know if…if I w-want her t-to see me…at all."

Sandy was thoroughly confused. Of all people Ryan would want to see, everyone would have agreed it should have been Marissa, "…Okay then. So you're not ready; I understand. But whenever you're ready…"

"I won't be…."

Sandy fell silent. Something was unquestionably wrong. Dr. Flowers' words flowed back to him; someone had hurt Ryan. Very, very badly. More than just malnutrition or a broken arm. It almost made Sandy shudder.

"Ryan, what did they do to you?"

There goes another fierce flinch. Sandy could almost feel Ryan's ice-cold – attempted blank – stare.

"Wh-what..?"

"Who did this to you?" Ryan stayed perfectly still. It wouldn't have been a big surprise if his breathing had halted. "Ryan, listen, I know you've been through hell and back. I know all this may have changed you. Maybe forever. But the first step to recovering is letting people help you."

"A-and that…w-would be you?" and there's that fearsome edge in Ryan's voice – the defensive one.

"It doesn't have to be me. Not if you don't want it to be."

"I-I don't want…a-anyone to be."

"And why is that? Are you afraid we'd think less of you? Look down on you?"

"Y-you'd n-never look at me the s-same way again."

Once again, Sandy fell silent. So did Ryan. And once again, Ryan burrowed himself into his protective blanket. Sandy reached for him, tried to offer some kind of comfort, but in the end felt at a loss. Surprisingly, Ryan didn't cringe when Sandy's hand came to rest on his shoulder; only shrank away a little.

"Ryan," the teen sank lower. "What happened to you? What are you afraid of?"

"Nob – nothing."

"I'm here for you. You know that."

"I know…"

"Please talk to me."

"S-Sandy…" Ryan just barely peeked out from under the blanket. Sandy held his breath. "I-I'm…really tired. I don't wa-wanna t-talk now."

"Ryan - "

"N-not right now. P-please?"

"Ryan, we need to - "

"Please?"

If Sandy Cohen had one weakness, it was for his children. He'd never seen Ryan look so sad; he didn't want to be further cause of it. He knew he had to talk to Ryan about…things he needed to talk to him about…but it was so late and Ryan had been put through enough for one day. A few hours couldn't hurt, could it? Ryan needed rest. Sandy could at least grant him that much.

With a small, relenting smile, Sandy tucked the blanket tighter around Ryan and petted his hair a little, "We'll be here when you wake up."

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"Unbelievable!"

"Julie, lower your voice; we're in a hospital."

"How do you expect me to take this lying down? You dragged my daughter all the way to Fallbrook and no one bothers to tell me!"

"It was a bit of a snap situation. As soon as we heard Ryan was here, we all rushed over."

"And left me to wonder where everybody was and why Marissa hadn't come home?"

"Mom, I was going to call you as soon as - "

"Not another word, young lady. You go wait in the car and I'll be out in a minute."

Marissa gawked furiously at her mother, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're in enough trouble already. You're lucky I don't ground you from ever seeing that boy again."

"You can't tell me what to do! Not when it comes to Ryan!"

"Speaking of whom, I'd like to have a word with our certain little trouble-maker."

Kirsten – having long abandoned the many cups of coffee to the hard marble floor – jumped in front of the fiery dragon lady's path, "Excuse me, but I don't think it was his idea to need to be in a hospital in the first place! Besides, that _is_ my son you're thinking of harassing."

"And this is my daughter who's run off to a random hospital without my say-so."

Marissa charged to Kirsten's side, who was just about as red as her step-mother's hair, "Ryan has been missing for months and after he finally shows up, all you can think about is your _pride_?"

Julie's eyes narrowed, "Let's not make this about him. This is about you having a little consideration for your mother who's been worried sick, wondering where you've been."

"Well, now you know: I'm safe and sound, with two adults, waiting to see my boyfriend and make sure he's alright."

"Well, obviously, he's fine if he's being taken care of here and you can come home - "

"I said I'm not going anywhere!"

Kirsten finally jumped between the two, though her aggravation was hardly quelled, "Julie, now's not the time for this. Marissa's here and with us and I'm sorry we forgot to call you. But I think I speak for everyone when I say that nobody's leaving until we're sure Ryan's going to be okay."

"And what am I supposed to do? Just wait around until you dub everything to be well enough for me to have my daughter back?"

"Or you can go back to Newport and I'll call you when I'm on my way back."

Julie blinked disbelievingly at Marissa, "Excuse me, but you do not make the calls here, young lady."

"Is it too much to ask to save all the drama until everyone is back home?" Kirsten butted in again. How she managed to not raise her voice was both a mystery and a miracle.

But the argument wasn't able to carry on any further for a few nurses had finally threatened to ban everyone if things didn't quiet down.

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Sandy had only meant to leave for a minute, honestly. He was merely on his way to see if a nurse could bring an extra blanket; Ryan had begun to shiver quite a lot. But then he spotted his wife trotting towards him. She held none of the promised coffee, which meant she was on a certain mission. And Sandy knew what that mission was.

"I couldn't do it, Kirsten," he said before she even came to a halt.

"Sandy, we have to - "

"You should have heard his voice. I just couldn't push him. Not now."

"What if Ryan's sick?" Kirsten gravely pressed. "What if every minute we wait, Ryan could be getting that much closer to being beyond help?"

"I'm sure if something was bad enough, he would tell us," Sandy argued weakly.

"No, he wouldn't, Sandy. And you know it."

Husband and wife stared each other down for a moment before Sandy sighed, "I don't know what to do, Kirsten. I feel like we're hurting him even more if we press the matter."

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"We'll be doing him even more harm than that if we just ignore it."

If Ryan was honest with himself, he wouldn't deny that he never slept much – not anymore. If he was _really_ honest with himself, he wouldn't deny that the voices beyond that door were talking about him. About what had happened. But Ryan wasn't honest with himself, so he continued to feign sleep and pretend that he couldn't hear anything beyond to almost silent drip of the I.V. solution above his head.

"Those bastards hurt him and I am _not_ going to just sit by and let Ryan try and convince us he's alright."

"If we force him, he's going to pull away from us even more. How can we help him then?"

Ryan began to wonder if being found and rescued was such a great thing after all. At least while he was…_there_ no one but him and _them_ knew what happened. It was nobody else's problem. Shouldn't it stay that way?

The arguing continued outside the door. Ryan hated it when parents argued. What he hated even more were parents who undoubtedly would never let things be until they knew the whole truth. Ryan couldn't let them know the whole truth.

Ryan willed his ears to block everything out as he buried his eyes into the pillow beneath him. He gripped the mass of down feathers with his good hand as pitiful, silent sobs wracked his body. But he wouldn't let any sound escape. And he refused to let any tears fall.

Tears only made things worse.

A/N: I hope that wasn't too terrible. Yes, Ryan may be a little OOC, but…wouldn't you be too if you were him? Anyways, I hope you lovely readers of mine continue to comment. Remember, all feedback is welcome! I'd love to hear your opinion. Reviewers, I hope to hear from you again. Any newcomers, I'd love to hear from you, too! Laterz for now!


	4. Nightmares While Awake

A/N: Hi, there, readers! I'm sorry this chapter took me so long, but life held me back and I had writer's block for a while. But I worked passed it and have presented you with yet another installment. I hope you enjoy! Please review!

Summary: A lot can change over a short period of time. That's been the story of Ryan Atwood's life.

Rating: M

Pairings: Ryan/Marissa, Seth/Summer; **later** Seth/Ryan, Zach/Summer, Alex/Marissa

Warnings: Abuse and assault of the worst kinds, so beware. Slash and FemSlash, so if this isn't your thing, leave now. Gruesome traumas, depression and suicidal themes. References to sexual abuse, so if this is beyond your limits of toleration, I suggest you don't read. Additional warnings later on. If you're easily offended, DO NOT read.

Disclaimer: All things O.C. belong to Josh Schwartz.

**In response to bobbysinger200: **You're a real sweetie! I have to say your reviews are one of those I wait anxiously for :) I'm glad you like the little insight with Ryan. I hope you love what you read here. Thank you for still keeping me writing!

**In response to Jodi: **I'm glad I made your day! I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. ;) Yes, I love Ryan-Cohen interaction, too. Lol I've had fun with it. Well, I hope you enjoy and review again!

**In response to Emily: **Yes, poor Ryan. Hopefully Seth can make him feel better ;) Glad you look forward to more! Let me know what you think!

**In response to Melster: **Thank you! Glad you think the chapter was great! I hope this one meets the requirements. And I'm happy you think I've characterized everyone well. And you're welcome for the shout-out. Just wanted to let you know you're appreciated. ;) Hope to hear from you again!

_Chapter Four_

"How was he?"

Seth didn't know exactly how long he'd been staring into his styrofoam cup full of black coffee. He just knew that when his brain finally registered Marissa's voice addressing him, he had to blink several times to return a decent amount of moisture to his eyes.

"You know – when you saw him. How was he?"

Seth returned his attention to his untouched coffee. He tried to suppress the dark smile that crept onto his face, but found it very difficult, "He's hospitalized. How would you expect him to be?"

"_Seth_."

"He's lying in a hospital bed with the lights off. There's not much information to give out. Ow!"

Summer slapped his shoulder again for good measure, "You are such an ass! It's just a simple question! Unlike you, Coop hasn't been able to see him yet! The least you can do is just - "

"He's curled up in a cheap hospital blanket, shivering constantly, in the dark even though he doesn't want to be, and he can't form three words without stuttering! You happy now?" both girls fell silent. The words suddenly sank in for Seth as well. His voice became quiet again. "He's nothing like our Ryan. He's just…I don't even know him."

"…Maybe it's best you don't see him right now, Coop," Summer muttered.

The lobby was silent until the faint thud of footsteps grew steadily louder. However, nobody looked up until a strong male voice spoke, "Excuse me," the trio slowly looked up.

Before them stood a tall man – probably about 6' or 6'1''. He was bald for the most part with a dark goatee. There was also a palm-sized bandage over his left eyebrow. He wore a blue police officer's uniform. He didn't appear unkind, but he did give off a very stern and professional air.

"Do you kids know where I can find a Sanford or Kirsten Cohen?" his voice was big, but not obnoxious. He sounded like the kind of person who could get right down to business if he needed to – but didn't get carried away.

Wary, Seth slowly stood up. The girls followed suit, "I'm Seth Cohen. Is there a problem?" Summer elbowed him in the ribs. "…Officer?"

The officer paid the squabble little heed and extended his hand with a polite smile, "Seth, I'm Officer Charles Landon. Do you know where I can find your parents?"

Seth numbly took the offered hand, his mind running over many possibilities, "Uh, they-they're upstairs. What's this about?"

Landon retreated and smiled calmly, "Two days ago, my partner and I answered a Suspicious Person call and ended up storming an abandoned building, where we found many drug dealers and convicted felons hiding out. We also found a missing person locked in the basement. Someone your family's had the whole state of California searching for over these past three months."

Marissa barely suppressed a surge forward, "You're the ones who found Ryan?"

"More like stumbled upon," Landon corrected. "But yes. And I'd like to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Cohen."

All three teens struggled for words for a moment, all of them caught between the decision to shake the man's hand or completely tackle him in a fit of laughter and tears. Finally, it was Summer who regained the ability to speak.

"Um, they're on the third floor. They're with Ryan now. Uh – Cohen! Go take him upstairs!"

"Ow!" Seth exclaimed when Summer slapped him upside the head this time. "Okay, okay! I'll be right back." But as he began to lead Landon towards the elevators, Marissa quickly tailed him.

"Hold on! I'm coming, too!"

"Marissa, I hardly think this is the time to - "

"He wanted to talk to Sandy and Kirsten; not Ryan," she firmly countered. "I think I've waited long enough. I'm going to see Ryan."

"I don't think he really wants to see anyone right now."

"He saw you, didn't he?" her words were like venom. "You'd think he at least would want to see his girlfriend."

"Excuse me," Landon cut in. "But with all due respect, Miss…"

"Marissa Cooper."

"Miss Cooper, when I found Ryan, he wasn't in very good condition; he was weak, soaked, starved, beaten, and he fought me within an inch of his life. You see this?" he pointed to the patch on his forehead. "He did that. He was scared to death of me. No doubt he's very fragile right now. I suggest you wait until he's feeling a little better."

Marissa's eyes hardened, "Then how come it's all fine and dandy that Seth goes to him?"

"He's my family, Marissa," Seth bounded defensively.

"I don't care! To an extent, he's mine, too! It's my turn to be there for him!"

00

00

"He's too tired to talk…"

Ryan wouldn't call his state of barely consciousness sleep; he preferred to think of it as meditation. He was aware of things going on around him - Sandy and Kirsten's hushed whispers, the nervous movements as they continually moved around the room. Besides, he didn't want to sleep; with sleep came nightmares and nightmares were worse than memories. But he didn't want to be awake, either. He knew as soon as they could, his surrogate parents would coerce him in to talking. Which he didn't want to do. If he talked, they'd find out things – things he didn't want anyone to know. Things nobody needed to know. Knowledge is painful. Sharing knowledge adds burdens.

"You know that's just an excuse."

"What are you suggesting we do? Force it out of him? Risk scaring him?"

"Convince him that we're here to help, which we are! We're not going to judge him, not going to treat him any different - "

"The more we push, the more he's going to pull away from us."

"Sandy, our son is lying there with cuts and casts and possibly worse from what a bunch of psychopaths did to him! How can we just sit by and not do anything?"

"I didn't say we shouldn't do anything; I just think we shouldn't push him too hard too fast. He's been through a lot, Kirsten."

"If we wait too long, we may be too late to help him…" Kirsten's voice was quieter, now. Grave. Sad. Ryan almost felt guilty.

Then Ryan almost opened his eyes when a surge of overlapping voices began to draw near. He was hardly surprised that he recognized all of them. Seth's he could identify immediately. Along with his was a female voice Ryan had trouble at first locking onto. The third, he wasn't sure where he'd heard before, but knew he had. When he heard the words 'boyfriend' and 'back off' in the same sentence, he recognized Marissa's voice. He shrunk himself as much as he could manage. When a streak of light shone into the room, he shut his eyes impossibly tight and lay very still.

"Whoa, whoa!" Sandy's voice suddenly began fierce. He was angry. "What's with the bursting in here?"

"Close the door!" Kirsten added. The voice Ryan somehow recognized – but didn't – was first to reply.

"My apologies, Mrs. Cohen. I'll wait outside until…until things settle down." Then the door was closed and the red mass behind Ryan's eyelids returned to black.

"Mom, seriously, in my defense, I tried to tell her that she couldn't come up here now, but you of all people know how women are…"

"Seth, lower your voice; Ryan's sleeping."

Seth's voice morphed into a loud whisper, "Okay, sorry. It's just that - "

"It's okay. Just wait outside for a minute." Ryan strained to hear every step Seth took until they disappeared behind the door.

"I wanted to come see Ryan," Ah, hi there, Marissa. Please go away… "Make sure he's okay and everything."

"He's fine," Sandy stiffly replied. "He's just tired. He needs rest."

"Well, good. Then I can sit with him and be here when he wakes up - "

"I think we should give him his space right now."

"I won't wake him up or anything; I can wait here. I _want _to be here."

Ugh, the stubbornness of teenage girls…

"Marissa, I think he wants to be left alone," Kirsten's sympathetic voice chimed in.

"You're here. What's so different if I am too?"

"We're his parents," oh yes; the stern, instructive voice of Sandy Cohen. "It's our responsibility."

"You're his _guardians_," that was a little low. "And shouldn't he have a say in who sees him?"

"He doesn't want to see you right now!" Uh-oh. What a time for a harsh-reality slip, Sandy.

Ryan could almost feel the temperature of the room drop. The silence was so solid it felt like more than a metaphorical elephant in the room. Even Marissa's stunned breaths seemed less realistic.

"What do you mean he doesn't want to see me?" she demanded. "Why wouldn't he want to see me? I'm his girlfriend!"

"And I think that's why he doesn't want you here; he isn't in good condition. He's ashamed." Ouch. Wasn't that a painful truth. Yes, Ryan was ashamed – ashamed of how he's changed and what circumstances it took to change him. Nobody needed to know what said circumstances were. Least of all Marissa.

"Well, he needs to know he doesn't need to be embarrassed with me. And I'll tell him myself if I have to."

_Oh, no. God, please don't let her stay. Not her. _Please_ not her. Not like this. Not here._

"Marissa," Kirsten began again. "He barely tolerated to have Sandy and me here. I think you should wait a little."

"What, you took my side against my mom's an hour ago and _now_ you're telling me I'm the one person who can't be in here?"

Oh, shit. Now Julie Cooper-fucking-Nichol is here? That's all anyone needs. If there was one person Ryan wanted in his room less than Marissa, it was Julie. One more reason to keep Marissa barred.

"M-Marissa," Ryan surprised even himself by speaking. He felt all attention in the room shift to him. When he felt someone move to him and the mattress dipped a bit, he started but it became apparent that it wasn't Marissa; it was Kirsten.

"Oh, sweetie, did we wake you? I'm sorry – we can leave."

Ryan ignored her and turned to where he heard Marissa's voice emanate, "M…Marissa…" Great. _Now_ she moves next to him. Ryan turned away when she went to kiss him. He felt a little bad, but he couldn't let her touch him.

"I'm here, now," she said weakly. "Are you feeling okay? Seth said - "

"Y-You should…g-go home."Ryan could almost feel her shocked and confused expression.

"What? Don't you want me here?"

"N-no," now he felt rotten. Marissa's disbelief – and possibly anger – could be felt even as she began to pull away. "I'm s-sorry. I just…I-I need…y-you shouldn't b-be here."

Marissa scoffed, upset, "Why? You were always there when I was in the hospital."

"Marissa. Pl-please. G-go home." Marissa was very hurt now. It was almost tangible. "Th-this isn't…where you w-want to b-be."

Marissa didn't argue this time. Instead, she stood where she knelt. She stared blindly at Ryan before turning on her heel to the door. A single sob was all anyone heard before she was out the door.

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Officer Charles Landon didn't like family conflicts. He didn't have one himself, so he didn't exactly know how to handle moments like this. Carla usually did that. But when he first set eyes on Ryan Atwood – the missing Cohen boy from Newport Beach – it was almost like he had a son of his own to think of. A solid reason to protect kids like Ryan. To be honest, he wasn't exactly sure why he did it; it just felt right. Even if some said victims fought with ferocity and fear worthy of a mother lion. And nearly ended up blinding him in one eye. And broke his partner's nose.

When he first saw Ryan, he couldn't help but want to protect him. He couldn't help the sudden and unfamiliar paternal feeling towards him. He couldn't help…feeling angry. He was just a _kid_.

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_The place was a maze. One staircase led to two more hallways with even more staircases. And the little bastard kept disappearing around the corner every time they caught sight of him. Carla was ahead of him. The smaller certainly were faster. That was okay, though; it brought balance to their team. Charles was the strong one. Carla was the fast one. Charles was aggressive. Carla was smart. _

_But apparently, so was the perp. Why was it that all the meth-heads and crack whores were the ones who made it the hardest? They usually felt like they could climb the walls and jump through ceilings or something. It seems that they can. _

_It wasn't long before he lost sight of Carla completely. Sure, Charles wasn't old, but he wasn't exactly twenty-five, either. Besides, don't all cops have to take a breath once in a while?_

_A loud thud from what seemed to be a few floors down caught his attention. He straightened up from resting his hands on his knees and stood very still. He heard it again. It was very faint, but very apparent. Charles drew his revolver. Who knows how many other psychos could be here. _

_Slowly, he crept around a moldy corner. He couldn't hear anything, but these drug dealers could be sneaky sons of bitches. With a swift jerk, he turned the corner. Nothing. He repeated the process until he came to a flight of stairs. Something was going on beneath him, so he started down, never dropping his guard. The first room he tiptoed into was completely covered in murky, smelly drapes. There was a faint tinge of burning crack in here. He heard quiet, ragged breathing and instantly knew he wasn't alone. What he didn't expect was the crazed perp – a skinny black guy this time – swing a broken pipe at him from behind. _

_The guy was definitely high as a kite. His actions were fierce, but sloppy. Charles had been in the force too long to be subdued by the likes of him. But he wasn't exactly sure whether when he finally got a hit on the guy over the head if he'd knocked him out or if he just passed out. Still, he was content taking credit for it. It's not like the guy would be a candidate for either possibility._

"_Chuck!"_

_The sound of his partner's frantic call for him brought him out of his muses. As soon as he had the druggie cuffed, he hurried off to find his partner, whom he found just outside a lone doorway on the first floor. The door was open and a set of stairs (God, he was getting so sick of those) leading down. It was pitch dark inside and Carla had her flashlight shining down. Her other hand remained holding her gun. _

_Carla looked up at him and Charles couldn't decide if she looked suspicious or worried, "I caught someone high-tailing it outta here. You wanna be the brave one?"_

_Charles gave his partner a sly grin and drew his own flashlight. _

_The further down Charles descended, the worse the smell of mold and waste and drugs and possibly dead animals became. And the darker it became. He could sense Carla a few steps above him, cautiously following, but her own light did little to aid him. His foot caught on a collapsed step three from the bottom. _

_There was a steady dripping sound over by a faraway wall. Probably a broken pipe or something – this building wasn't young. _

_Charles could hear another breather in the room. It was faint and shallow. Maybe it was another crack head. Heh, this was quite a bust. Carla had already requested backup and they weren't here yet. Looks like they get to play hero alone._

_The two split up and scaled every inch of the room. Charles found scraps of dead roaches and bits of mice here and there. It made him almost want to be sick. But then his being sick would have added to the splotches of dirty water all over the floor. Besides, he was a California cop; he was a little more dignified than that._

_Movement over in a corner startled him at first, but a quick shine of his flashlight showed him it was only Carla, kneeling by a still lump of…something. Clothes, by the looks of it. Rotted and worn. Carla barely moved. Her green eyes bore into his with a certain light he'd never seen in them before. _

"_Chuck," she called over in a whisper. "You should come see this."_

_Warily, Charles edged closer, not sure if he wanted to see. _

_When the heap of old rags and clothes turned out to be a figure of a person, Charles knew he didn't want to look; it was probably the dead, rotting body of one of these trash cases they chased here. Or maybe a prostitute who had an overdose probably weeks ago. But then the detail that it didn't exactly smell like a corpse hit him. Whoever this was…hadn't yet been put out of their misery._

_Charles holstered his gun and knelt opposite of Carla. He shone his light up and down the soaked body before him. God, it was a _kid_. Sixteen, _MAYBE_ seventeen. _

_The pair of jeans were torn and molded from all the moisture. He saw one dirtied sneaker on one of the victim's feet and a dark sock on the other. The t-shirt was riddled with rips and slashes from what only could have been a knife, if the glimpses of clotted blood under the dark cloth were any indication. There was another slit straight up the back. The pale arms were bruised, the left one a bit discolored. They were bound behind the victim's back with a set of shiny handcuffs that glared at Charles from the flashlight. Under those cuffs was red, angry raw skin around the swollen wrists. Another cuff hugged the ankle that didn't have a shoe. Attached to it was a chain that locked around a pole not three feet away. If this sight alone wasn't bad enough, when Charles saw the kid's face it crossed the line that separated disturbing from morbid. _

_From what he could see, the poor kid's face looked no better than the rest of him did. Blood, scrapes, bruises, a black eye (even a thin trail of watery red trailed from his right tear duct under his closed eyes). Charles couldn't see much more because of the dingy white cloth gag that was stuffed into his mouth and tied tightly, then clamped down with a slab of duct tape. A halting drip of putrid water dripped onto his cheek. Charles looked up. There was a broken pipe right above him. God, every time someone used the plumbing, it would come down on him!_

"_Jesus…" Carla muttered. She had a thing about kids. They always seemed to be the one thing that actually got to her._

"_We need to get him outta here," Charles said, determine to keep a level head as he peeled off his uniform shirt and draped it over the boy. "He's still breathing, but I don't know for how much longer."_

"_Charles," Carla hardly ever called him that. He looked up from his belt for something – anything – to unlock the cuffs; the locks were mangled and very obviously beyond repair. Carla brushed back a lock of dingy hair (Charles wasn't quite sure what color it was) and shone her light on the kid's face. "It's that boy."_

"_What boy?" Charles almost snapped, digging through what he had and calling to dispatch to send them an ambulance. _

"_The boy from Newport," his partner snapped back." The one who want missing a few months ago. The one everyone on California's been looking for. It's him!"_

_Charles had heard way too many Missing Persons reports for Carla's descriptions to ring a bell. But this boy was a boy who needed help – that's all that mattered to him, "Let's get him outta here and then you can fill me in, alright?" Charles handed Carla a couple of pins to work the locks free and then trained his flashlight on the kid's face, trying to find away to peel off the tape without causing him any harm._

_The silver patch was halfway off – revealing a deep, bloody gash where the stiff cloth bit into the corner of his mouth – when a pair of deep, yet dull blue eyes began to open. They blinked once, twice, and then he was halfway up off the floor – head-butting Carla behind him and sending Charles a kick to the chest that almost sent him across the floor. He was back up in an instant, intent on holding the kid still before he hurt anyone. Carla got to him first, locking her arms around him to hold him still. _

"_Ryan. Ryan, it's okay," she tried in her best motherly voice she saved for frightened children – which this kid obviously was. But he still thrashed and fought, a fearsome light in his eyes. "It's okay, honey. Shh, no one's going to hurt you. It's okay. Calm down." She looked up at Charles. Her nose was bleeding. "Chuck, get the cuffs off of him!"_

_Charles lunged forward again. He at first reached for the pins Carla had dropped somewhere, but apparently the kid didn't like having so many people so close to him. He shut his eyes, fighting back fiercer than ever. Ragged screams muffled by the grimy rag made Charles' ears hurt. He tried to hold the kid still himself now. Carla began working at the cuffs. _

"_Kid, listen to me," Charles firmly said in his stern voice. "We're trying to help you. Hold still." It wasn't easy, but eventually, he got the duct tape off. The cloth that turned out to be an old handkerchief wasn't as easy, but he managed to slip it down off of the kid's face. He wasn't too proud, though, because the boy Carla called 'Ryan' started scream. Sadly, it was hard to tell which words he was saying – or if any of it was words at all. He was pretty sure he caught the word 'no' several times, though. _

_Between Carla's coos and Charles' strong hands, Ryan was stilled enough so Carla could work at the cuffs. But just when they thought the kids was finally calmed down – and the click of the first lock being picked was heard – that's when they regretted letting their guard down. _

_The boy's hands broke apart. Charles was too slow to comprehend the swift glimmer of silver flying his way until a sharp pain ripped down his face. Then Ryan was on his feet, his legs shaky as he ran with one handcuff still on, dripping with Charles' blood. _

_He didn't get far, of course; the chain hooked to the pole stopped him before he was ten feet away. He tripped and fell, and the Carla was in him in an instant. He struggled and fought her still, but it was much weaker this time – almost as if he'd given in._

_Charles could barely see, now; he knew a vast amount of blood had seeped into his eye. But he didn't need his eyes for the sudden break of quiet sobs to catch his attention. _

_And the repeated no's and pleases that were uttered between them. _

_Charles couldn't hear his partner's shushes, reassurances, and motherly words – so he was sure the kid didn't either._

00

00

Landon looked up at the sudden slam of a door. Miss Cooper speed-walked away from the Atwood boy's room, a trail of tears running down her cheeks. The brunette girl that sat beside Seth immediately jumped up and followed. Seth stayed where he was, staring blankly into the tiles beneath his feet.


End file.
